Of Hot Dogs and High Schoolers
by chillian
Summary: Sometimes they just need to be kids


DISCLAIMER: We all know who owns them and it's not me so don't sue.  
  
FEEDBACK: Let me know will ya?  
  
AN: This is just a bunch of fluff that came to me on a quiet night of sleep deprivation and boredom. I hope you enjoy reading it as much I did writing it.  
  
The hot dog stared at him with an air of indifference and no expression on it's malformed tip, Lex Luthor did not seem happy about it. Glaring at it with disgust he drawled, "You're actually expected to eat this? I don't think I could identify a single, organic substance within the contents of this thing they call a hot dog. Do your parents know they're forcing you to consume this swill?"  
  
Lana chuckled when he sniffed at the frankfurter and grimaced. Clark, being the polite little farm boy that he was, tried to hide his guffaws between pursed lips. Even Pete found amusement in the young billionaire's predicament.  
  
"You know, Lex, we do go to a public school. I don't think our parents tax money can afford a five-star chef on top of school books, computers, team sports,-"  
  
"Give him a break Chloe, it's not like Luthors are normally forced to consume the food of the common folk." Though Pete's words seemed sharp, it was obvious from his tone that they were motivated by a softer emotion than the malice they implied.  
  
"If I had known that my duties for today would include dining with the very students I was to educate I never would have let Clark talk me into visiting for this mentoring thing." Lex was still studying the offending item, his fingers occasionally poking at the bun.  
  
Clark gave up his pretense of manners and released what sounded suspiciously like a giggle, "Lex will you just take a bite already? It's not going to hurt you." Picking up his own hot dog he took a bite, chewing the wiener slowly, savoring each drop of ground and compressed pork/chicken/beef/ leftovers with a generous helping of enjoyment and ketchup smeared across his lips.  
  
"Clark you don't have to illustrate your point so graphically." Lex's skin seemed to have a green tint as he watched his friend munch on his lunch and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed convulsively. "Are you sure it won't bite?"  
  
It was Chloe's turn to laugh this time, "I know that Smallville has it's share of strange phenomenon but I'm sure that attacking frankfurters aren't one of them. At least I don't think so." Her eyebrows waggled over green eyes lit with humor.  
  
As if to show he wasn't afraid of a little peice of processed meat Lex plugged his nose and took a generous bite of the hot dog and proceeded to chew. As he tried to swallow his throat locked up and he had to release the hold on his nose, allowing the full flavor to coat his pallet.  
  
The group of friends watched as his face contorted violently, shifting from surprise, to relief, to revulsion. They examined the effects of Smallville High cuisine on the bald billionaire, each dissolving into laughter and amusement.  
  
"Ah cend smallew ift."  
  
Lana's features sobered into a mask of mock questioning, "What was that Lex, I couldn't understand you around that mouthful of cow guts."  
  
Lex's brows shot up and the mass of chewed animal flesh and stale bread shot from his mouth onto Clark's shirt. The semi-congealed mess oozed down his front and landed with a wet smack on the table as the rest of the teenagers collapsed in a fit of hysterical hilarity.  
  
"Lex that is so gross and you ruined my shirt."  
  
"I'll buy you a new one." A grin had spread itself across Lex's face and bubbles of what could only be considered amusement issued from his lips.  
  
"I can't let you get away with that, this is the only shirt I have for the rest of the day." Clark picked up the rest of his hot dog and chucked it at his friend. "What do you think of that?"  
  
The piece of meat connected firmly with Lex's head and, having no air to grab hold of, slid down the back of his skull. His hands reacted before his features could and Clark was confronted with a flying juice can almost before he could react.  
  
Almost. At the last second Clark ducked and the juice sailed over his head landing on the table behind him and exploding on the congregation seated around it. A beefy football player whose muscles seemed to outnumber his brains turned retaliated with a handful of macaroni and cheese. The paw- full of pasta and dairy product flew through the air, followed by any number of cookies, milk cartons, and assorted other goodies.  
  
The entire cafeteria erupted in a cacophony of laughter, screams and shouts. Food flew ubiquitously, landing in backpacks, hair, and the face of a not-so-amused principal.  
  
Clark, Lana, Pete, Lex, and Chloe ran from the cafeteria and down the hallway. The food fight would be disrupted soon and someone would be pointing fingers. When they felt they had far enough from the scene of the crime they collapsed against a wall and tried to catch their breath.  
  
"I guess the hot dog really was dangerous after all." Clark picked a chunk of baked beans and potato salad from his hair and threw it to the ground.  
  
Pete slapped Clark on the back and grinned, "Not as dangerous as tapioca pudding. Where'd you learn to throw like that?"  
  
"It's just a talent."  
  
"Well I guess that cancelled the days activities didn't it?" Lana was rubbing something that looked suspiciously like carrot cake off of her butt and giggling. "What was your topic of discussion going to be anyway Lex?"  
  
Lex looked at each of his friends soberly, "How detrimental immaturity can be in the acquisition of long term goals." 


End file.
